


Mended

by geekmama



Series: Time of the Season [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: Sequel toBrokenand still from Rosie Watson's POV (mostly)....it was a whole week after The Adventure of the Broken Violin before Rosie Watson again saw any member of the Holmes family...





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'Fixed' prompt.
> 
>  
> 
> ******************************

 

What with a long anticipated holiday at Aunt Harry’s, followed by a three-night stay in Brighton that included a visit to Daddy’s old commanding officer, Major Sholto, it was a whole week after The Adventure of the Broken Violin before Rosie Watson again saw any member of the Holmes family. But the day after she and her father returned to London, Aunt Molly took Rosie shopping for some new clothes. Summer would be ending soon, and Aunt Molly had always taken it upon herself to make sure Mary’s daughter was well equipped to begin a new school year. 

“But it’s not just that,” Aunt Molly said, confidentially, when they were headed off to the Tube station, Daisy Holmes -- eighteen month old Margaret Rosamund -- gleefully bouncing in her umbrella stroller. “I want to get you some special things, to thank you for helping the boys last week.” 

Rosie flushed. “I… I thought you might be _angry_ about that.” 

Aunt Molly looked down at her and smiled. “Because you didn’t tell us right away where they were? Well, no. Not when I’d heard the whole story. I know about promises, you see. And keeping secrets. It’s not always wise -- or easy. But sometimes it’s what one has to do.” 

“Daddy said I should have told you Will had called, when you first came to our house looking for them. I think I might have done if Will hadn’t said they were okay, that they were just hungry and scared -- well, he said Jon was scared, but I knew he was, too. And if it hadn’t been summer, and such a beautiful, warm night.” 

Aunt Molly nodded. “Each case is different. But you did well, I think. Those naughty boys!” She shook her head, not quite able to smile. 

Rosie said, hesitantly, “What happened to them?” 

Aunt Molly did smile at that, but she said, “Nothing too dreadful -- but they’ll probably tell you when we all meet for lunch.”

 

*

 

It was just after noon when Rosie followed Aunt Molly into the surprisingly posh restaurant where Uncle Sherlock had made a reservation for all of them. The host greeted Aunt Molly as an old friend, and had one of the staff take away the stroller and the bags that were evidence of their extremely successful morning of shopping. Rosie was now feeling quite excited about school starting up again, but in the meantime, wearing her new “special things” -- _Little Mermaid_ leggings, a lacey, gauzy tunic style blouse in a wonderful shade of teal, little red ballet flats, and a bow of matching red tied at the end of her freshly french-plaited hair -- made her feel rather like a princess in this elegant place. 

“Your usual spot,” the host murmured to Aunt Molly, and led the three of them toward the back of the restaurant where a large table was set for nine plus a highchair. Daddy and Uncle Sherlock stood up as the ladies approached, and Will and Jon belatedly followed suit after their father shot them a sharp look. 

Uncle Sherlock kissed Aunt Molly on the cheek, then took Daisy and made the toddler laugh by giving her a smacking kiss, too, before popping her into the waiting highchair at the head of the table. 

“Who else is joining us?” Aunt Molly asked. 

“Greg Lestrade,” replied Uncle Sherlock, handing Daisy a cracker from a basket on the table. “And Mycroft and Lady Smallwood.” 

Aunt Molly’s brows rose, and she glanced over at Will and Jon. 

Uncle Sherlock said, in meaningful tones, “Don’t worry, they’re going to be on their very _best_ behavior.” 

Will wrinkled his nose a bit, but Jon said, “Yes! Can Rosie sit with us?” 

“Maybe she should sit _between_ you,” Rosie’s daddy said, with a chuckle as he seated Aunt Molly on Daisy’s left hand and then sat down next to her. 

Jon exclaimed happily, “Can she? Move over, Will. Come on Rosie!” 

Rosie looked a question at Will, wondering if he might still be annoyed, or even angry that she’d betrayed the location of their bolthole in Regent’s Park on that memorable night a week ago. But he had a shy, if crooked, smile for her and moved over readily enough, so she went around the table to take the chair between the brothers. 

“You look brilliant, Rosie!” said Jon. “Doesn’t she, Will?” 

Will’s expression turned rather mulishly embarrassed, and Rosie was moved to hiss at him, “If you say you hate _The Little Mermaid_ I’ll give you such a _pinch_ …” 

“No!” Will said, quickly. “ _Little Mermaid_ is better than _Thomas_ , anyway.” 

Rosie chuckled. 

“Imagine Rosie wearing _Thomas the Tank_ leggings!” Jon exclaimed and laughed rather uproariously. 

“Shush!” Aunt Molly said, with a glare at them all... 

...just as Detective Inspector Lestrade walked up to the table. “Well, look what we have here,” he said, eyes widening with feigned dismay as he took in Will, Rosie, and Jon. “The infamous miscreants. But your dad’s always been a courageous bloke -- not to mention a bit _barmy_.” 

Uncle Sherlock gave a roll of his eyes. As he shook hands across the table he drawled, “Don’t make me regret inviting you, Lestrade.” 

Aunt Molly gave her husband a frown. “ _He’s_ more likely to be the one with regrets.” She smiled as Greg clasped her hand. “Don’t worry, one of us will take Daisy out if she starts fussing, and those three know how to behave, when they set their minds to it.” 

Rosie’s father said, as he shook hands, too, “ _My_ little girl has _always_ known how to behave in restaurants.” He gave Rosie a wink, and she flushed with pleasure. 

“So she has,” Greg said, kindly. “It’s her Holmesian bookends I’m not so sure about. But I’ll sit down here at the foot of the table and keep young Will company, since Jon’s dad is by him and can keep him in order.” 

Will looked both pleased and disturbed by the teasing, and Rosie gave his hand a squeeze under the table. He gave her a sideways glance and a slight smile, but sat very quiet and rather stiff. 

And then Uncle Mycroft and Lady Smallwood were approaching. 

All the gentlemen at the table stood up, including Will and Jon -- Lady Smallwood was a very impressive woman. But Uncle Mycroft slowed his pace as he took in the number and nature of his prospective tablemates. “Good lord,” he said, lifting a brow. He looked at Uncle Sherlock. “You failed to tell me we were dining _en famille_. Whatever gave you the impression that I like surprises, brother mine?” 

Uncle Sherlock rolled his eyes for the second time. “Sit down, Mycroft. Hello, Alisia. You’re looking well.” 

“Thank you,” Lady Smallwood said, her eyes alight with laughter. 

There were more greetings among the adults, which transitioned quite naturally to conversation. Will, Rosie, and Jon sat very quietly for a time, then began to converse, too, in very low voices. 

“You look very gentlemanly in those clothes,” Rosie said to the boys, which was true. They looked like they were set to have tea with Prince George and Princess Charlotte! “Did your dad have much trouble convincing you to dress up?” 

“No, we had to,” Will said. “We were at music lessons before this and the teacher’s _ancient_. It’s _required_.” 

“Really?” Rosie asked, round-eyed. 

Jon said, impressively, “ _And_ we have to practice an hour a day. It’s part of our punishment. Till school starts. Then it’ll be a half hour.” 

“What do you mean? What happened?” Rosie asked. 

Will said, “Dad had to get a new violin, while his other one’s being repaired--” 

“Repaired?” said Rosie, surprised. “I thought you’d smashed it.” 

Jon said, “It wasn’t as smashed as we thought.” 

Will added, “Dad says it won’t ever sound quite the same, though. Anyway, he got another one, so he wouldn’t miss playing with Aunt Eurus, and he decided Jon should start learning the violin, too, so he bought him a little one. I’m still doing piano.” 

“Yeah, it’s brilliant!” Jon said. “I can already play _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. Only we’re not allowed to watch telly for a whole month,” he added sadly. 

“And practicing a bloody hour a day isn’t _brilliant_ ,” Will said acidly, annoyed at what he strongly felt was his brother’s completely unwarranted enthusiasm. “I wish he’d just thrashed us instead – at least it would’ve been quick.” 

“Is that so, Will?” came Uncle Sherlock’s amused voice. 

Rosie gasped and fixed her eyes on the table, and Jon shrank down beside her, silent. But Will looked up at his father, horrified. 

Uncle Sherlock said to him, coolly, “I’ll have to remind you of that the next time you misbehave. And Jon, too, if he likes.” 

Jon shrank still further, and Will looked down at the table now, too, sulky and very red-faced. DI Lestrade chuckled beside him and gave him a pat on the shoulder. 

Uncle Mycroft observed to his brother, “You’re quite the tyrant, considering the lenience _you_ were shown as a child.” 

“Oh, please,” Uncle Sherlock said, impatiently. 

But Lady Smallwood said, “That’s probably _why_ he’s a bit of a tyrant, Mycroft. It did take him nearly forty years to grow up.” 

Uncle Mycroft sniffed. “That’s not what our mother says. _You’ve always been the adult._ Implying that I haven’t been, of course.” 

“Oh, my God,” Uncle Sherlock said. “Can we just agree that, for all her virtues, our mother really knows very little about the two of us?” 

The brothers glowered at each other across the table while the other adults, particularly Aunt Molly and Lady Smallwood, smiled discreetly. 

Then, Daisy, focusing on more important matters, squawked and reached toward the cracker basket. 

Uncle Sherlock handed her another cracker, saying, “Yes, sweetheart, we’re _all_ starving. And here’s the waiter, at last. Let’s have an end to this extremely awkward conversation, shall we? We’re here to celebrate.” 

Uncle Mycroft, sitting back in his chair, asked, “Celebrate what, precisely?” 

“Jon’s mastery of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ , obviously,” said Uncle Sherlock, giving his subdued younger son a hair ruffle. “And further, a whole week of fairly good behavior.” 

Will dared to raise his eyes to his father’s, saw what was plainly written there, and breathed again.

 

*

 

After an excellent lunch, during which the children were all exceptionally subdued and Jon in particular managed to eat all his vegetables _and_ not spill any of his milk (“Unprecedented!” remarked his father), goodbyes were said to DI Lestrade, Uncle Mycroft, and Lady Smallwood, who had to return to their offices, and the rest of the party returned to 221B Baker St. 

“Let’s stop in and see Mrs. Hudson for a moment,” Aunt Molly said as they entered the door. “She’s been a bit under the weather lately.” 

“Can’t we visit later?” Jon moaned. “I want to play my piece for Rosie.” 

“Yes, all right,” said Uncle Sherlock. “It’s probably best we don’t inundate her flat all at once, anyway.” 

Will exclaimed, “Come on Rosie! I’ll play you the Minuet in G, that’s _my_ new piece!” 

He pounded up the steps, but was dogged by his brother who was ranting that _he_ should play first, it was his idea, and Will was a horrid git and he could go soak his head… 

Etc. 

“Well, that didn’t last long,” said Uncle Sherlock, wryly. 

“Don’t worry,” Rosie said with a smirk. “I’ll keep them in line.” 

And, after exchanging a fond look with her father, she, too, pounded up the stairs.

 

*

 

Some twenty minutes later, Martha Hudson looked up from where she sat in her wing chair, bouncing little Daisy Holmes on her knee and basking in the sight of three of her favorite people in the world enjoying tea and biscuits in her lounge. “Listen to that!” she exclaimed, with a wide smile. 

Strains of music had been coming from above for some time, but now both violin and piano were playing the _same_ tune: _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. 

“Oh, lovely!” Mrs. Hudson said. 

“Thank goodness!” said Molly Holmes, raising her eyes heavenward. 

“Amazing,” said John, with a nod to his best friend. 

And Sherlock murmured, “Indeed, it seems there may be hope for them yet,” and took another sip of his tea. 

 

~.~  

 


End file.
